Bluebeard - Kurt Vonnegut

I remember the spear points put on the ends of rifles. One was like a sharpened curtain rod. Another was triangular in cross-section, so that the wound it made wouldn't close up again and keep the blood and guts from falling out. Another one had saw teeth - so it could work its way through bone, I guess. I remember thinking that war was so horrible that nobody could ever be fooled by romantic pictures and fiction and history into marching to war again.